The Best to the Worst
by Steph-la
Summary: Celaena and Chaol had the best night where they put their appointed duties from the King on hold. However, those duties could have made all the difference in the outcome of their fate.


"The dispatch of the rebel, Archer, took far too long. Rebel movement has been noticed within Rifthold, but nothing is known about they're plans, goal, leader, and motives. Captain, I trust you to take the appropriate measures for this matter in sufficient time. Assassin, kill them all." The King of Adarlan waved his hand in dismissal before turning away from the pair.

"Yes, you're Majesty," Celaena and Chaol murmured their acceptance of the appointed tasks in unison. After bowing, they slipped from the room. Only after the heavy, oak, doors shut behind them did they allow themselves to meet eyes. Caramel met blue ringed with gold, "Hmmmm, this ordeal can hold until tomorrow. No way am I missing my chocolate hazelnut cake for only a few idealists. I must say that I can now play a mean game of pool; I doubt you could keep up to me if you tried." Celaena spun on her heel and stalked from the hall to bully _ into making her another cake. A snort was heard from behind her and she knew that he would come, if only to crush her in a one-sided game of pool. She smiled in victory, as his footfalls faded in the other direction, most likely to increase guard patrols or something among those lines.

Surprisingly, Celaena wasn't sure what her favourite part of the evening was. Her mind originally pictured the chocolate hazelnut cake in all its glory, but Chaols face continued to interrupt her analysis. She supposed it could have been her minds conniving way of saying his company was her favourite. However, the goodness of that dessert could never be outdone by anything in existence. She had to admit, though, that the night itself was one of her favourites. At least, it was the best night since Endovier. Looking back, she couldn't recall a night with Sam that had her laughing and enjoying herself as much as she had this night. Snuggling in her bed and sleep weighing down her eyes, she let herself recall the night that could quite possibly be the best night.

The billiards game, of course, was downright hilarious only because her lack of skill was so surprising, even after months of attempting to improve. In fact, Chaol teased that it could have even been worse. So, like every other game, it ended with her cheating outrageously, such as using her hands and lungs to move balls towards their demise, and Chaol still winning by stunning proportions.

The night was also serene with the fire crackling and emanating a warm glow basking the three bodies in an orange light. They ate the cake in silence besides the occasional sound of begging by Fleetfoot. He lay between the two, staring at them with those big eyes. Eventually he realized that his master would never willingly give up her treat so he concentrated his forces on Chaol. Chaol acquiesced in handing a pinch of his portion to the dog. Celaena looked at him with disapproval but contentment stayed her tongue. As the night grew darker, they moved to her balcony and watched the stars appear while talking about nothing and everything. Before the half moon could reach the height of its arc, Chaol announced his regret at leaving and Celaena voiced her dismay, and a silent promise was forged. _After this fiasco is over, as celebration, let us share a night like this again._

_Do you promise?_

_I swear we will. _

Chaol faded into the shadows. Celaena buried herself amongst her blankets and numerous pillows. They both dreamt of the unspoken promise between them.

Fleetfoots incessant yapping wrenched Adarlans Assassin from her pleasant dream. Bleary eyes opened to reveal the annoyed gold rimmed orbs. Growling under her breath, she lethargically turned to snap at the disturber of her peace. All traces of sleep vanished from her system in an instant at the sight of Fleetfoot. He was agitated, scratching, and barking at the _tapestry_, the tapestry keeping the hidden passages a secret. She surged up, snatching the dagger under her pillow and threw herself at the chamber door. The secret door swung wide just when her fingers touched the wood of the knob. In one movement she opened the door, nudged the now growling dog into the next room, shut the door, and twirled to meet her attackers. Wyrd, had she been wrong when she thought they were a few idealists. What faced her was soldiers clad in light armor, drawing swords from scabbards, and charging. They danced to Celaenas favorite tune.

She weaved in and out. Slashing a dagger that was an extension of her arm, she felled soldiers left, right, and center. Ducking, she heard a swipe whistle above her head actually taking off some hair. The perpetrator died a moment later from the sword of a fallen comrade. The weight and balance was off, but it didn't matter. It was a weapon, one much better that the dagger in her other hand. Pivoting, ducking, weaving, spinning, and lunging, she became a whirlwind of skin and steel. Adversaries fell at her feet, and soon her bedchamber was no longer that, nor a battlefield, but a killing ground. The coppery twang of blood that accompanied the crimson stained room assaulted her nose. Staggering a few steps back, she gulped in some much needed oxygen. Once she had a sufficient amount of oxygen and inspected her minor cuts and scrapes, she fled down dimly lit hallways where shadows seemed to stretch out for her with menacing inky tendrils. Her pounding footsteps on stone were the only sound in the castle. It worried her; Chaol wouldn't have a warning like she had. She bolted headlong through the shadows, in effort to prevent the death of another loved one. She didn't know how she could handle another loss. Dorian, she hoped was safe and protected by his guards in his tower. Once she reached Chaol, she would go for him. She would not let anyone she cared about die again. Never again.

Chaol and her almost collided when she was hurtling around the last corner. It seemed that he was fine, covered in blood, but running. He skidded to a stop before her, gripped her arms tightly, that bordered on painful. His eyes bore into hers with barely concealed worry, a slew of words came from his mouth so quickly that Celaena couldn't hear him. She smiled lightly, aiming to ease his worries. "I'm assuming you were asking along the lines if I was alright." At his nod, she continued, "I am fine, Fleetfoot, my brilliant guard dog is also perfectly alright. I have a couple of minor issues but not enough to slow me in the slightest. Now, are you alright?" It was her turn to let worry shine through. Not that she doubted his ability.

"I'm fine. I was organizing rotations, so I was awake when they broke in. Dorian, we must find him." Chaol was already sprinting down the corridors. Celeana followed closely behind. The corridors she had run through mere moments ago seemed less dark and gloomy with Chaol by her side.

They never reached Dorian. Celaena and he were set upon just outside of his tower. The enemy troops were massive. This was more than a small rebel movement; this must have been going on for much longer than a few weeks. This would have taken years to train all of them. Not to mention that they all had got in the castle quickly and efficiently without raising an alarm. There was a traitor in their midst. In the original chaos, Celaena and he had been separated. He knew she didn't want him to worry about him, but he couldn't help it. She was special to him, similar to the way Dorian was. He needed to get to Dorian. Just be with him, but he couldn't just leave Celaena here by herself to handle things. He knew she could and he knew she wouldn't let anyone past, but like he said; he worried. She was also very reckless. He had a feeling that she didn't value her life as much as she should. He knew that she would gladly sacrifice herself to save Dorian, or him, he added as an afterthought. That thought scared him more than anything.

He wrenched his conscious back into the battle at hand. The onslaught was beginning to thin but he couldn't afford to grow lax now. His mind knew this, but his body was growing tired. His sword was feeling heavy in his hands and his reflexes were beginning to slow. His consolation though was that he wasn't the only one. The enemies had to be feeling the strain of the battle. They were definitely trained, but he had years upon years of experience that they didn't. It was showing in the battle. Massive amounts of wounded and dead littered the stone hallway and he was still standing, and if he was, she was.

A cry echoed over the din of swords clanging. He threw himself in that direction. A shout was nothing knew but it was familiar. It was a scream from her. His heart pounded erratically in fear. _Why was she screaming_, kept racing through his head and he couldn't shake the unbidden images of her dying.

_Where was she?_

A flash of gold.

She was kneeling on the ground, sword just out of reach from her grasping hands. Terror was written clearly in her eyes. A soldier bearing down on her. His intent of killing her so very visible. The sword swung down. He was too far away. Chaol blinked. When they opened again Celaena was on her feet, sword gutting through her adversary. His worry slightly eased, but he made special attention to make sure to not let her out of his sight.

Celaena let herself sigh in relief. That situation could have turned out very wrong. If she hadn't turned at the right time, she could have been skewered from behind. If he hadn't thrown up her sword, she could have been killed. Her sword could have been thrown farther then what she rolled. He could have killed her before, during, or after she rolled. So many things could have killed her in that scenario. She cursed. She shouldn't even have been in that predicament. She was growing sluggish. Her precision less than perfect, the battle was taking its toll. Although she was no longer at her best, she bested most soldiers easily. Soon, she could see Chaol. Relief flooded through her entire being once again. She swirled away from an attack and took a glance at the fight. There was five enemies left. This battle could be over in moments! She and Chaol could go to Dorian and they could all relax from this ordeal in the comfort that all was okay.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the sight of one soldier. She zeroed in on the form and sprinted. Horror made her move faster. Just as the sword swung she pulled Chaol away by his collar and stabbed his attacker simultaneously. Chaol stumbled to the ground from the harsh tug. She smiled in victory. He was safe. Then her knees hit the ground. Sword tumbling from numb fingers. Vision blurred and ears echoing the cry of her name.

Chaol had just dispatched one of the last soldiers in front of him. He didn't know how he had ended up with his hands scraping harshly against the rock. He had to deduce that Celaena had yanked him out of the way. He appreciated the fact that she didn't throw herself in front of the blow and proving his point of her being a sacrificial idiot to save him. A body fell beside him, head rolling a few feet away. Lifeless, glazed eyes staring at him, but off into space. He shot up; he couldn't sit on the ground while Celaena fought even though he had only been lying there for a few moments. He was on his feet for only a few seconds before he noticed a sword being pulled from her front. The sound made him sick and the smell no different from the other blood spilled that night brought him into frenzy. His vision went red and next thing he knew was that he was kneeling at her side, everyone else dead in the room besides the two of them. He wouldn't let her join them. His hands, trembling, pressed onto her wound desperately. "Celaena, wake up." He encouraged with a shaky breath. He couldn't stand her eyes closed like that, in such finality. "Celaena, please," A tear fell onto her face.

Her eyes fluttered open revealing the blue rimmed with gold orbs. His heart squeezed painfully. They were glazed over and lost, like she couldn't see him. Only a shadow of the glimmer of life and humour danced within and it was quickly fading from existence. "Hey," she whispered voice cracking and weak. A smile tugged at her lips, but a cough burst forth and wracked her body in spasms in his arms. His arms tightened on her bloody frame, his thumb wiping away the trail of blood from her lips. "Chaol, I-"

"Please, Celaena, don't speak. Save your strength to get through this." Chaol urged in barely more than a whisper.

"No, I must say this. Chaol, y-you have no idea how much you have saved me, fr-from myself, from Endovier, from Cai-Cain. Now all you-your effort has gone to waste. I'm sorry. I'm s-sorry I won't be able to fulfill our promise. You kno-w, freedom, without you, wouldn't have been so gre-at anyways." Her voice could barely be heard now. Chaol had to strain his ears to catch the barely audible, "Thank you." She smiled weakly at him, and flopped her hand to the side for Fleetfoot. The dog immediately began to lick her, the blood disappearing with each one. He just noticed Fleetfoot keening then. The sound was soft but high pitched. It was a mournful sound, full of pain. Chaol was almost sure he could imitate it perfectly; at least he was feeling the same emotions to. Her body went limp in his arms; her eyes were no longer staring at him, instead staring into the other side. He pulled her to him and buried his face in her hair. He screamed in despair, accompanied by a howl. He stayed there like that, holding her dead body, long after she breathed her last.


End file.
